


when your porridge hurts so bad yet tastes so good

by countertop



Series: soak [1]
Category: The Grandmaster of Demonic Cultivation, 陈情令 | The Untamed (TV), 魔道祖师 - 墨香铜臭 | Módào Zǔshī - Mòxiāng Tóngxiù
Genre: Burial Mounds (Módào Zǔshī), Character Study, M/M, POV Third Person, Pining, Yiling Gang, au where lwj stays the night, lwj visits wwx
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-11
Updated: 2020-04-11
Packaged: 2021-03-02 01:27:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 504
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23596843
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/countertop/pseuds/countertop
Summary: In his dreams, Wei Ying will be made whole again.
Relationships: Lán Zhàn | Lán Wàngjī/Wèi Yīng | Wèi Wúxiàn
Series: soak [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1698487
Comments: 3
Kudos: 29





	when your porridge hurts so bad yet tastes so good

**Author's Note:**

  * For [antholege](https://archiveofourown.org/users/antholege/gifts).



> in dreams we are always children

Lan Wangji has never been comfortable with fire, but for Wei Ying, he supposes, he could learn to tolerate it. The realization comes in the form of a red-hued porridge passed around by Wen Ning, and when he takes his first bite he forsakes his tongue. He pushes chunks of overcooked turnips and eyes the sliced peppers warily, and in the heat of celebration he holds a pretense, that maybe Wei Ying is looking at him too, if only barely. Each swallow burns its way down his throat. He plays pretend. It doesn’t hurt anymore than he allows it to, so he scrapes the bowl clean, and pretends the inside of his cheek isn’t peeled and raw by heat.

Lan Wangji continues to pretend that his longing can be satiated by a sad example of porridge, stale grain disguised in turnips and chili. He wonders if this is why Wei Ying loved spice: the scorching burn and the numbness that throbs in the aftermath of each swallow, a bare imitation of being. When he pretends hard enough, the hurt subsides into nothing but the grinding of teeth.

From a distance he watches Wei Ying stumble into the makeshift hall, cheeks red, eyes red, lips red. A-Yuan climbs into his lap and offers him tea, and Lan Wangji, in his dreams, imagines it to go like this: he will open his mouth and raise the cup to his lips, and Wei Ying will glance at them and finally look at him, see him now, drinking hot tea made from leaves planted in rotten soil and bones. The tea will glide smoothly down his throat and Wei Ying will watch him still and give him the barest sliver of a smile, and Lan Wangji will come to realize it has been worth it. The truth grounds him. That evening he forsakes his tongue. It is not much to forsake much more, and for Wei Ying, he is not above dreaming.

He has not much left of Wei Ying, he realizes. Perhaps ashes of him, whatever bones and sinew left by the flames. He can forgive himself to steal a few more: another fragment of his smile, an image of lips wet by wine; Lan Wangji collects bare crumbs and keeps it for later. Wen Qing feeds the heat with broken branches. In the glint of the fire, Wei Wuxian’s eyes glaze over.

Lan Wangji leaves. When he returns home, he will dream in the Cloud Recesses. And in his dreams, there will be no need for fire. In his dreams, Wei Ying will be made whole again. They will be sixteen, chasing after rabbits and bathing in springs. They will be sixteen and this time Lan Wangji will keep him safe, skin pristine, unburnt.

“Lan Zhan.”

“Wei Ying.”

Lan Wangji will not let the world burn. But on the brink of leaving, when Wei Ying is no more than Wei Wuxian to him, he thinks he can close his eyes, and let his skin char black.

**Author's Note:**

> i've been trying to ease my way into writing again with shorter... fics... so wangxian it is <3 the fic is inspired by the quote at the beginning which i got from twt user nikiforcvs' quote compilation from waaay back


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